Riddle
by Genetically Empowered
Summary: A series of non-related shorts surrounding our favourite castaways. Up Now: GOLDEN BELL; two part series (Chair, o' course)
1. Default Chapter

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RIDDLE

_"A writer is someone who can make a riddle out of an answer."_

_- Karl Kraus_

_Warning!_ There MAY be spoilers ahead. I'll put at the beginning of each short, the last episode that it adheres to. (i.e. "Golden Bell"; spoilers up until "Daddy Issues") But consider this your formal, generic warning.

_Disclaimer_: I don't own LOST, ABC, or Disney. I also don't own the lyrics/quotes/poems referenced unless otherwise stated. I don't own much…please don't sue me.

_A/N: _Okay, this is going to be a bit different than what I usually post. The series of short fics that I will be posting here are the LOST section of a little writing exercise I do for myself. I give myself a song lyric, movie quote, poem, etc. to work with and I have to come up with a fic that incorporates it somehow. How, is as follows:

Song lyric: The fic has to encompass the lyric. I don't usually insert the lyric into the fic, but the fic has to reflect the mood of the lyric.

Movie Quotes: Is usually incorporated into the fic. It doesn't have to exactly fit the context it was originally used in, so long as it makes sense inside my story.

Poem: Pretty much the same as the song lyric, I try not to rhyme in my stories, but if the poem is prose, I might slip it into the fic itself.

Sound interesting? Not really? Meh. I'm posting these up as separate one-shots unless it's stated that it will be part of a short series, but nothing I post in here will be very lengthy. Less than 5000 for each entry, I should think.

OOooOooOooOo

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Tracing

_Spoilers: _"Homecoming"

_Character Pairing(s)_: Kate/Sawyer; hinted Kate/Jack

_Feed_: "Tracing" by John Mayer

Do you ever get the feeling

That we started in the middle?

Or have you ever had the sense

That we've been lying just a little?

I mean come on

It's not like we've known ourselves that long

And I can't say I really blame you for being bored with the beginning

Always staring at the score to figure out who's barely winning

But don't you know

There is a reason strong, move slow

And I'm okay

If you're okay with wasting time

But when you trace

You always see the bottom line

We are tracing

I hope you know

We are tracing

And if you want to know the moment

I knew that I was still alone

I found I never learned your number

I only stored it in my phone

You'd think by now

I'd know the shape of calling home

And I'm okay

If you're okay with wasting time

But when you trace

You always see the bottom line

We are tracing

I hope you know

We are tracing

We're both alone

He never figured he had much to live for. Not when you laid all the cards out on the table. His parents were dead. He had no family that he knew of, and he knew of several places that, if he returned there, he'd be dead by morning. The life of a conman never was much of a life. You could kid yourself into thinking it was…into thinking you were some slick deal that had all the moves and knew all the answers, and if you didn't know them, you know how to manipulate the situation so it appeared you knew the answers.

But there was one thing about being a conman that he failed at. He failed no matter how hard he tried. He failed at suppressing his conscience. Yes, Sawyer happened to be the not-so-proud owner of the Jiminy Cricket that just wouldn't die.

She made it worse.

She knew just how to push his well-hidden buttons and make his skin crawl. And, in spite of it all, it made her his favourite person on this god-forsaken tourist attraction gone wrong.

They started in the middle, really. Skipped that whole…beginning, whatever it would have consisted of. He let her do it. He wanted it that way, and he let it happen.

But he knew it was all just a waste of time…in the end. Who were they kidding, right?

A plane crash, a couple outcasts. Didn't all the signs point to it. They had enough secrets between them both that it would make the Pentagon's head spin.

Sawyer had her attention for awhile. She knew it, and she willingly gave it. She liked him and the enigma he presented. He reminded her of herself. Kate wasn't as tactless and cruel, at least, not on this island. But she liked him for it. She like the rawness he brought to their struggling little existence. He was a dynamic that she would have missed had he not been there.

So, he had her attention, and she had his. So much so that, sometimes, they'd think it was actually something that was going to go somewhere. They lied to themselves though, after all, it was a new place and they could be new people, couldn't they?

But he knew he was alone. He knew he was alone, even when she'd come and they'd exchange banter. He knew she helped Sun in the garden, and sometimes he'd come and lean against a tree and talk with her while she worked. But he never bothered to see which fruits she cultivated. He still didn't know, and he never would. That was how he knew it. A silly reason, really. But the epiphany had hit him on the way to talk to her at the garden, and on his way back, he realized that he never bothered even then to see if she was planting mangoes or papayas. It wasn't really important, not for any real thing. But it's insignificance and his ignorance tipped him off. Had their entire…relationship been something less than just a way to waste the time, he would have known.

They were tracing through their little scenario, always ignoring the bottom line. But, of course, when it's over, you always see it coming.

She had come to his tent. You'd think by now she'd know her way around the area…but. of course, she never bothered to learn.

"Hey there, Freckles," Sawyer was wringing out a shirt he'd just washed, he looked over his shoulder at her, and the look in her eyes said everything she would take ages to say. He drew in a breath and turned back to face the tree he was standing at and hung his shirt up on it. "That face means we gotta talk, don't it?" he asked warily.

"Sawyer-" Kate began, and he turned around to face her.

"You don't even need to say it, Sweetness," he said and offered a snarky grin. "Shake the Doc's hand for me, will ya?" He moved to sit down just inside his tent, and shut his eyes.

"It's not like that, Sawyer," Kate immediately spoke up, and he heard her footfalls on the sand as she came closer.

"Ain't it?" he asked, and her pretty head appeared through the flaps of the tent. "You think what's been going on was something more than just a waste of time?" his question sent a wounded look across her face and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Freckles, don't lie to yourself, thinking we had something special." he leaned forward and leveled a blue-eyed gaze at her. "That's the funny thing with these sorts of things…you can always see it comin'."

Kate stared at him, a slightly melancholy look on her face, and she didn't speak for awhile. "I'm okay with it," she said after a moment.

"Excuse me, Freckles?" Sawyer asked, making a show of turning his ear towards her.

"I said I'm okay with wasting time if you are," she said in a firmer tone, one that held an underlying irritation with him.

Sawyer smiled and laid back, arms going over his head. "Ain't that a sad song?" he asked rhetorically, and her expression of confusion was just what he had expected. "What did you think, Freckles? I've already told you I ain't never been in love. Did you think you were going to be the one to change that?" her expression at that statement gave him the answer in the affirmative. He tsked.

"Skip on back to the Doc, now, Sweetness. You're wasting my time," he said airily, and shut his eyes, silently voicing his wish that she truly was still wasting his time.

OOooOooOooOo

Mehh. It didn't pull together the way I wanted it to. (shrugs) It was just supposed to vaguely explain why Sawyer and Kate were so drawn to one another. I think vague is the most operative word there, however. -

Read and Review please! Oh, and check out my other stories "Threading" and "Broken Memory". (dances)


	2. Golden Bell pt1

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RIDDLE

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"A writer is someone who can make a riddle out an answer."

- Karl Kraus

Warning! There MAY be spoilers ahead. I'll put at the beginning of each short, the last episode that it adheres to. (i.e. "Golden Bell"; spoilers up until "Daddy Issues") But consider this your formal, generic warning.

__

Disclaimer: I don't own LOST, ABC, or Disney. I also don't own the lyrics/quotes/poems referenced unless otherwise stated. I don't own much…please don't sue me.

__

A/N: Okay, this is going to be a bit different than what I usually post. The series of short fics that I will be posting here are the LOST section of a little writing exercise I do for myself. I give myself a song lyric, movie quote, poem, etc. to work with and I have to come up with a fic that incorporates it somehow. How, is as follows:

Song lyric: The fic has to encompass the lyric. I don't usually insert the lyric into the fic, but the fic has to reflect the mood of the lyric.

Movie Quotes: Is usually incorporated into the fic. It doesn't have to exactly fit the context it was originally used in, so long as it makes sense inside my story.

Poem: Pretty much the same as the song lyric, I try not to rhyme in my stories, but if the poem is prose, I might slip it into the fic itself.

Sound interesting? Not really? Meh. I'm posting these up as separate one-shots unless it's stated that it will be part of a short series, but nothing I post in here will be very lengthy. Less than 5000 for each entry, I should think.

****

OOooOooOooOo

****

Golden Bell (pt.1)

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Spoilers: "All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues"

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Character Pairing(s): hinted Charlie/Claire (or, Chair, if you will, the lovely 'ship name by Minty!)

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Feed: a quote from _The Last Unicorn_

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"You name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."

It wasn't his fault. Not if he really wanted to look at it and pick it apart.

But it was so much easier to blame it on himself. Blame it on his ignorance, his weakness, his inability to ever to anything right. It was easier to think that it was him, not just some freak chance that something like this could happen to her.

She didn't deserve it and God just wouldn't let this happen to someone so wonderful.

So it was his fault. Had he been better, it wouldn't have happened. Had he made a better decision, it wouldn't have happened. Had he put his life on the line right at the beginning, he wouldn't be doing it literally in the end. She could have run, or screamed, or something. But as it were, he'd been a right idiot and just listened to Ethan.

But something told him it would be best to just let Ethan have charge. Something was…off about the man. Charlie couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it the first instant he ever saw the man. How could he have trusted _him_ to get Jack!

He wasn't being fair to himself, he did try, however briefly, to stop Ethan. Put himself in front of her, and told Ethan to back off. Of course, it only took Ethan's large hand to wrap around Charlie's neck and squeeze, and the Englishman was left on the ground, sputtering and suddenly blindfolded.

Claire had been unnaturally quiet to begin with. She cried, and you could hear that. Hear her ragged breaths when she'd try and stop herself. Occasionally you'd hear a whispered, "please," but nothing more.

"Claire," it had become the only word Charlie could bring himself to say. Her name. Most of the time it was meant to be reassuring. Or if he'd hear her stumble, it was to check if she was alright. But sometimes, sometimes he'd say it, and he'd sound more lost than he'd ever felt in his entire life.

Charlie was lost in the darkness that the blindfolded provided. He had no idea where they were going, or what was happening. All he knew was he had to think of something. Had to find a way to save her. He flexed his fingers on his left hand and suddenly had an idea. Stealthily, he fumbled around and managed to loosen the tape on his one of his fingers and drop it to the ground. Genius! He wished he'd thought of it sooner, but he was confident that Locke would be able to find them, track them this far. Locke was creepily good at that sort of thing.

A few moments later, he dropt another one, and then, he spoke her name again. "Claire," this time it was more reassuring and confident. He reached out his hand blindly for her.

"Charlie," her voice was raspy and thick from her tears, and Charlie felt a surge of anger towards Ethan race through him, but it was quickly suppressed when he felt Claire's hand in his own. That became his lifeline.

Before long, it started to rain. Charlie and Claire had fallen silent. More than once, Charlie had felt the urge to tackle Ethan, where he could hear him walking, and beat the man. But somehow, he gathered it to be a very, very bad idea. Much like it had been a bad idea when he'd tried to remove the blindfold behind Ethan's back. He'd ended up sprawled on the ground, the only thing his vision could register being blinding red light.

Finally, they came to a stop. The rain was beating down and they were surrounded by hundreds of whispers. Charlie felt Claire's grip tighten painfully and he returned the gesture, afraid himself. The whispers were deafening, so much that he barely heard Ethan's voice saying something, and then more footfalls, more voice, more people.

And then the rain began to let up, the whispers began to fade. Charlie felt Claire move closer to him, and the urge to rip of his blindfold was stronger than ever. There were others around then now, Ethan was suspiciously absent. At least, for a little while. When he returned, he was most unhappy.

"Kill the spare!" Ethan's voice roared, and Charlie felt his heart drop to the jungle floor. All sound vanished and he felt himself begin to quake. God, that meant him!

Suddenly, he was ripped away from Claire, and she sobbed loudly. "No!" he heard a scuffle, and then she went still, though her cries were still audible.

"Claire," his voice was weak and he felt like a child lost at the shopping centre. "Claire!" his voice gained strength, but lost resolve. He felt several pairs of hands on him, and then a thick vine go around his neck. Oh, God. Charlie felt sick.

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Forgive me Father, how did those prayers go? He couldn't remember, so instead he chanted that phrase over and over. "Forgive me Father," he managed to whisper it out, but choked on his fear.

"CHARLIE!" his name was thrown from Claire's mouth and he felt his heart stop briefly. He opened his mouth to speak her own, but the noose tightened, and he was in the air.

And she screamed. God, she screamed. It would haunt him until he died, that sound. Charlie wanted to just die then, just, please, God, take me now. Of course, things aren't that easier, and her screamed bounced off the trees and the air and his very soul.

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Claire! He wanted to say her name. He clawed at the vine that was constricting his throat. He tried to form her name, but all that left his lips were breathless sputterings and chokings. He couldn't _breathe_! He tried to gasp and failed.

It's funny, how the one thing you want to say is the one thing you've said more than anything else in the moments leading up to the want. All he'd been able to say was her name, and now, in the moment he wanted to call out to her most, he couldn't form the word.

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Claire. It wasn't that hard. It shouldn't be, anyway. One syllable. No funny sounds. Just Claire. Clarity, innocence, purity, the one person on that island that ever looked at him as if he were useful. As if he may have been needed.

It's funny how she picked the wrong person. But, God, what he would give just to say her name once more. He knew she was gone. They were gone. He was alone. It wasn't that hard to realize, if he took a moment from drowning in his fear and lack of oxygen.

She was all he had stood for. Everything that mattered to him on this bloody island. He felt anger, anger that gave him surprising clarity in his fading moments. Anger towards Oceanic for building faulty planes, anger towards Jack for not believing Claire and for being the driving force in Claire's need to leave the caves. And he felt hatred. Hatred and blinding anger towards Ethan. The rat bastard that caused this aching death, the rat bastard that had dragged Claire and her baby away. He hoped Ethan would die painfully.

In his last moments, Charlie tried to find some good memory to hold onto. One good thing that mattered. But somehow, they were all blurred and fuzzy. Peanut butter, he couldn't even rightly recall how that came about. He could only hear her screaming. His arms hung limp, his head lolled forward, Charlie had quit trying to breathe a long time ago. His lungs burned, and his heart beat erratically, trying to keep functioning. His brain was spotting and Charlie wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and he wanted, more than anything, he wanted Claire. He wanted to see her, and see that she was alright. Her name was the last thing he thought of. How he would have given his body, his mind, and his soul just to call her once by her name.

****

OOooOooOooOo

I'm never really pleased with these things! Raa! Anyhow, this was, obviously, Charlie's PoV from the kidnapping scene and what happened. Not a lot happened, really, in my opinion. Ethan is teh creepy and I wouldn't have tried to pick a fight with him either.

As you may have noticed, this is Part 1 of a series. A two part series, so nothing major. Though I will be using several quotes from _The Last Unicorn_ in my next few shorts, as it's the best movie ever! This quote I shall be using for both Charlie, and next Claire. So, the Claire PoV should be up momentarily, if you've somehow read this before I've uploaded it.

Read and Review please! Oh, and check out my other stories "Threading" and "Broken Memory". (dances)


	3. Golden Bell pt2

****

RIDDLE

__

"A writer is someone who can make a riddle out an answer."

- Karl Kraus

Warning! There MAY be spoilers ahead. I'll put at the beginning of each short, the last episode that it adheres to. (i.e. "Golden Bell"; spoilers up until "Daddy Issues") But consider this your formal, generic warning.

__

Disclaimer: I don't own LOST, ABC, or Disney. I also don't own the lyrics/quotes/poems referenced unless otherwise stated. I don't own much…please don't sue me.

__

A/N: Okay, this is going to be a bit different than what I usually post. The series of short fics that I will be posting here are the LOST section of a little writing exercise I do for myself. I give myself a song lyric, movie quote, poem, etc. to work with and I have to come up with a fic that incorporates it somehow. How, is as follows:

Song lyric: The fic has to encompass the lyric. I don't usually insert the lyric into the fic, but the fic has to reflect the mood of the lyric.

Movie Quotes: Is usually incorporated into the fic. It doesn't have to exactly fit the context it was originally used in, so long as it makes sense inside my story.

Poem: Pretty much the same as the song lyric, I try not to rhyme in my stories, but if the poem is prose, I might slip it into the fic itself.

Sound interesting? Not really? Meh. I'm posting these up as separate one-shots unless it's stated that it will be part of a short series, but nothing I post in here will be very lengthy. Less than 5000 for each entry, I should think.

****

OOooOooOooOo

****

Golden Bell (pt.2)

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Spoilers: "Homecoming"

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Character Pairing(s): hinted Charlie/Claire (or, Chair, if you will, the lovely 'ship name by Minty!)

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Feed: a quote from _The Last Unicorn_

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"You name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."

She'd been running for days. Her fingernail hurt from the attack she'd delivered to Ethan's face. She quit counting how many times she'd fallen, and she had quit checking to see if the baby was still moving. Sometimes everything felt so numb that she didn't want to know. She'd worry about him later. She had to get away now. If she didn't get away it wouldn't matter whether or not he was alright.

She ran and ran and ran. Ran until she forgot what she was running from and why she was crying. She ran until she suddenly wasn't exactly sure why she was in a jungle and how she'd found one in Sydney. She vaguely wondered, on occasion, if Los Angeles had jungles nearby and why the couple she was meeting had taken her there. It was a silly thought, but she entertained it anyway. It was better than assuming she was irrevocably lost and alone. She just knew she had to get away from wherever she had been.

Was this a dream? She felt as though she'd had a dream like this once before. Though it was less scary, and more of something else.

It was night when she finally felt like she'd gotten away from what she had been running from. Or, at least far enough away to walk instead of run as she had been. She had been trudging through the brush, wondering where she was going, when she stumbled upon a pair of men. A pair of men that looked vaguely familiar. They knew her name. Claire. How did they know that?

Had she run in circles? Was she back to where she had been running from! The panic that came with those question did nothing for her, other than to bring on blessed darkness as the older man approached her.

Someone was touching her. She heard her name, and the askance that she wake up. Where was she? Her eyes fluttered open and she saw a man she did not know. Immediately, she sat up and pushed as far away from him as she could.

"Who are you?" she demanded, swallowing hard. He didn't answer, and just backed away.

That's when someone else stepped into her view.

God, she knew him! She did, but then again, she didn't. Her mind reeled and spun and raced and she couldn't slow it down and she couldn't, for her very life, remember his name.

She wanted to know it. She wanted to know him. She knew she did. Claire brought in a ragged gasp of air and she felt like crying. Why, why, WHY! She stared around the room, and then back at the man who was before her, looking at her with wide, hopeful blue eyes, that held a hint fear.

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I know you! The words wanted to leave her mouth, but more than that, she wanted to say his name. His _name_! What was it? God, she would have torn her heart to pieces just to be able to know him.

But, instead, she recoiled further. "WHO ARE YOU!"

****

OOooOooOooOo

Annd, there you have Part 2 of the Golden Bell series. Yay. I hope that made sense. I wanted her to have at least a slight recognition of Charlie, but I didn't want her to really remember him, because it's highly doubtful she would have, if she has the amnesia that they say she has. (shrugs) But, I can't help but want her to remember him a little! I hope you guys liked it.

Read and Review please! Oh, and check out my other stories "Threading" and "Broken Memory". (dances)


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